Happy Mother's Day
by AiyokuSama
Summary: Alfred is confused about what his family is up to.


A/N: Sorry this is late. FF was uncooperative.

It was the sound of the vacuum that alerted him to the fact that was amiss in the Wayne Manor house. With a mild frown the butler heads into the parlour, following the sound. And coming to a standstill in the door way, very possibly with a notably bemused expression.

"Master Dick? Miss Cassandra? What in the world are you doing?"

It's actually very obvious what they are doing. Cassandra is up on a step ladder, dusting one of the bookcases and Dick is in fact vacuuming the area rug. Or would be if the fringe wasn't currently caught in the vacuum's power-head. The young man curses a he turns the machine off. Then Dick is looking up at Alfred, beaming happily at him.

"Oh hi Al! Uh…We're cleaning." Cass nods, looking at them as Dick speaks.

Alfred takes a steadying breath. He has had many years to learn the eccentricities of the various Wayne family members. Yet somehow they still surprise him. "Yes, I can see that. The question is why."

"Your day." Those curt words come from Cassandra and very likely make perfect sense to her. Yet Alfred is feeling rather clueless.

"My birthday isn't for some time yet," he points out mildly.

"Oh we know," Dick informs him absently as he studiously picks out the rug fringe. "But it's your day. So let us take care of things for you. You just kick back and enjoy."

Take care of…. The Englishman experiences a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Please tell me that Master Bruce is not in the kitchen attempting to cook," the butler demands in a dryly panicked tone.

Dick blinks, surprised that Alfred thought they WOULD. Everyone knows that letting Bruce cook means that at best dishes are ruined and at worst they will be down in the Cave, using the stomach pump. "Of course not. Tim and Steph are. Bruce is taking care of the cars in the garage."

Oh well then, that's not so bad. Master Timothy is far more reliable in the kitchen and Miss Stephanie is not above asking for help if it's needed. Even so. Alfred nods to the odd pair and takes himself off, heading for the kitchen. He sets his face in a stern expression ready to scold the pair into vacating his domain, but the smells stop him. Tomato. And basil. Just a hint of pepper.

"Alfred!" Stephanie squeals and moves to hug him. "Hi! You aren't supposed to be here. We've got everything under control."

When the exuberant young woman lets him go Alfred straightens his attire habitually and raises an eyebrow. "Dare I ask what it is that you have under control?"

"Lunch," Tim informs him with his usual calm demeanour. "In about 20 minutes. Go relax."

Alfred can't help but frown a little. A very little, since such a display would be exceedingly unprofessional. So far this is making no sense whatsoever. Oh well. If lunch is being taken care off, Alfred can keep himself busy with the laundry.

Except that when he pushes the door to the appropriate room open he's greeted by the sight of Jason's posterior as he leans in the industrial washer to pull something out. When the man straightens, the second Robin stands there, staring at the butler. "Eh? What are you doing in here Al?"

Alfred fixes him with a mild look. "My job, I had thought. What are you doing in here, Master Jason?" None of his family has encroached on his chores before, well, except for the last time he fell ill, but there is nothing wrong with his health currently.

Jason is smirking at him. "I'm being you and YOU are supposed to be chilling. It's your day."

Alfred's eyebrows knit consternation. That's the second time he's been told that and it still doesn't make sense. "You know how to…?" Jason just flaps a hand at him and the smirk is firmly in place. He takes the hint and moves back into the Manor. The fine black shoe click on the hard wood floor a he walks, unsure where to go. Or how to figure this out. Perhaps he should head to the garage and corner Master Bruce about the situation.

It's a sensible idea, but that doesn't happen, for young Master Damian is standing in his way with a very disagreeable frown. The boy is holding something behind his back. Alfred carefully doesn't jump when the boy pulls his hand out and waves a card at Alfred.

"I think it's a silly idea. Idiotic even, given that you are you. But everyone else says it's an American tradition and that as the youngest I have to give this too you."

Confused on a number of levels, Alfred reaches out of the card and takes it. Grey eyes don't miss the fact that Bruce is lurking in the shadows, but the master of the house lurking is simply a matter of course, so he concentrates on the card, which reads:

Happy Mother's Day.

He feels his lips quirk as he opens it.

To the world's most patient Mom. You make everything work.

Love Bruce, Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cassandra and Steph

"I." He looks up. Damian is gone, but Bruce is there and Alfred has to let the smile through, propriety be damned. "Thank you."

The billionaire, dressed in slacks and a polo shirt with a new grease smudge, offers his own little smile. "You are. So important to us. You do so much to just keep us sane. Even if the gender implications are suspect."

Alfred smiles faintly and shakes his head. "One does one's best, sir. And….thank you," he offers with absolute sincerity. His is a very odd family, but not one he'd trade for anything.


End file.
